


Leap

by RarePairFairy



Series: Fears [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Confessions, First Kiss, M/M, awkward!Chris, everything i touch turns to porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:03:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1283773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RarePairFairy/pseuds/RarePairFairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deputy Parrish returns to the office one night and gets a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leap

**Author's Note:**

> It’s reached a point where I will be insanely disappointed if the Sheriff’s name turns out not to be John. I’m so invested in it it’s not even funny.
> 
> Moar Deputy Baby Darling Parrish!

Deputy Parrish fumbled his keys once, then twice. Then he sighed heavily, and started to flick through them slowly, one by one. Car key. Apartment key. Locker key. There it was. Door key.

Normally Parrish didn’t keep his work keys on his own set. Most of the doors here required keycards rather than actual keys, but the door to get into the front office required a normal key and Parrish had left his wallet in the top drawer. Again.

Checking that the Sheriff was still there had been mere formality, just so he wouldn’t be dropping in without warning. Sheriff had sounded a little sharp over the phone and Parrish wondered if he’d done something wrong. Maybe the boss just didn’t like being interrupted?

He was still musing on the topic when he reached the desk. He contemplated leaning bodily over it, opening the drawer with the little key on the second ring of his keys and then legging it. But he’d gone so far as to call ahead. He might as well say hi. Maybe he’d get to see the Sheriff in his reading glasses again, he mused with a twinge of guilty pleasure.

He rounded the desk, taking a surreptitious peek around the corner and through the blinds. The light was on in the Sheriff’s office, but it wasn’t clear who was in there. It looked like there were two people. Parrish started to second-guess himself. Maybe he should just leave.

But it’s not like he’d be sitting down to chat. Just dropping in, that was all.

Parrish collected his wallet and tucked it into his back pocket, fiddling with his keys. He felt shy all of a sudden, like a schoolboy. The Sheriff had that effect on him. It was something about the constant air of exasperation and “I’m-so-done-with-everyone-and-everything” that put Parrish in mind of a lecturer he’d had in college, an ex-marine who had punched a fellow lecturer for having an affair with a student. Or maybe it was the male librarian with the prosthetic leg who turned out to be an ex-stuntman. Either way, Parrish’s natural instinct was to admire the Sheriff, and he did.

He knocked on the office door and opened it simultaneously, intending to lean in and say goodnight, see you tomorrow, etcetera. He got halfway through the sentence “hi, just thought I’d …”

And then, blushing and mortified, he froze.

 

_Fifteen Minutes Ago …_

 

Chris’s heart skipped the moment John dropped his pen, turned his hand over and tucked his fingers into the gaps between Chris’s. His eyes were watchful and steady, and perhaps there was a glimmer of nerves there, but his hand didn’t tremble.

‘I need to get something off my chest,’ Chris said after reminding himself to speak. Words. _You must make it clear in words._ His voice was slightly hoarse around the edges. He swallowed, took a breath, and watched John watch his throat.

‘Anything you want to say,’ John prompted. ‘You can tell me anything.’ His voice was _naturally_ hoarse around the edges, it was a trait which had snuck into Chris’s dreams recently and it made his toes curl in a quiet, private environment like this, with every iota of John’s attention focussed on him, those green-blue eyes like steel and water. He was pinned.

Chris could suddenly feel his heart beating. Not beating, _pounding_. John’s fingers squeezed his.

‘I’ll go first, if you want.’

Chris nodded mutely.

John stood and rounded the desk, keeping hold of Chris’s hand, reaching for the back of a chair by the wall which Chris had been using as a foot rest. He pulled the chair up close and sat down, so close that his knees were between Chris’s and every single interaction felt so charged that the slightest brush of John’s knee felt like he was being undressed from the soul outwards.

‘I’ve been a little unreasonable lately,’ John said softly. ‘I know I have, and I regret making you think I was angry with you for no reason.’

So John thought Chris was trying to apologize for being weird. It made the hurdle that much harder, even with his body feeling like it was thrumming with fire, John’s hand still on his and when had John taken over control of the conversation?

‘It’s fine,’ Chris forced out. ‘Actually, I … I didn’t want to say anything at first, but I feel like I ought to be honest. Out of respect, and … because we’re both adults.’

John looked too kind, too patient. Puzzled, maybe by the drawn-out explanation, and Chris hated that he was probably expecting an apology or something and when Chris came out with it, it was going to permanently change things between them, and John was going to let go of his hand, and Chris had to stifle the voice in his head listing all the reasons he should shut up and just walk out, because if he did leave without a word it was going to change things permanently too, only instead of the grim satisfaction of having told the truth, Chris would just regret not having said anything. Not knowing what John’s answer would have been. Never knowing.

Chris let go of John’s hand and clasped his fingers together, leaning his elbows just above his knees. It brought them a little closer, with John leaning slightly forward too. Chris looked up from under his short eyelashes and knew that, if he moved quickly, he could probably land a kiss on John’s lips without John having enough time to lean back.

But that wasn’t how he was going to do it. He was going to use words. He’d decided that five minutes ago.

‘I’ve, for quite some time, I’ve, um …’ Chris cleared his throat. John reached up to the desk and offered Chris his glass of water. Chris accepted, taking the extra few seconds to repeat the sentence firmly in his head. _Had feelings for you. For quite some time now, I’ve had feelings for you_. Not explicit, but left very little room for interpretation. All he had to do was get the words out.

Handing back the glass, Chris waited until John had placed it on the desk and steeled himself. He looked at the Sheriff’s badge pinned to John’s chest, up to his collar, his neck, working his way up to John’s eyes. Despite having emptied the glass of water, his mouth suddenly felt dry again.

John sighed, lowering his face. ‘Okay,’ he said.

The word had a ring of finality to it. Chris groaned inwardly. He was acting like a fucking teenager, and John could see it, and he was only making this _more_ awkward, and John suddenly had his hand on the back of Chris’s head and was tugging and Chris could feel John’s knees pressing against his inner thighs before he felt the pressure of John’s lips against his, and for a second he didn’t quite know what to do with his hands or what to do with anything, and then John was taking his hand again and his brain caught up with what was happening.

Chris shut his eyes and remembered to breathe. Slowly, through his nose. And he remembered to move his lips, and he placed his free hand on top of John’s leg because he had to put it somewhere. He felt fingers moving down the back of his skull, stroking the nape of his neck, and he felt the torturously slow drag of the tip of John’s tongue against the seam of his lips, and everything was sensation and mild confusion. But he didn’t want to think. He was done thinking for the evening. This moment was far, far too important to waste any of it thinking when that energy could be spent _experiencing_.

He allowed the kiss to progress beyond the chaste press of lips on lips, allowed John to lick his tongue with a filthy kind of affection, as if he had been waiting to do it for way too long and wasn’t keen on waiting any longer. The kiss pulsed and intensified. John let go of Chris’s hand to bunch it in the front of his shirt and pull him closer, tilting his head and pushing his tongue all the way into Chris’s mouth, and Chris could suddenly feel his own heart pounding again and feel his face flushing and he wrapped his arms around John’s shoulders, shuffling forward on his chair until he was sitting on the edge of it and had to spread his legs to allow space for John’s knees.

When they finally parted, minutes, ages, forever later, Chris was breathing shakily and John’s top button had come undone where Chris had yanked at his shirt.

‘I’m sorry,’ John whispered, and Chris’s eyebrows arched in befuddled concern. ‘You were taking too long, so I figured I’d speed things up a little.’

Chris chuckled breathlessly, relieved, kiss-stoned and wondering if that, _that_ , had really just happened. The tingling of his mouth and the way John was resting their foreheads together and still clutching the back of Chris’s jacket indicated a resounding yes.

‘I forgive you,’ Chris said quietly, with a wide grin. John smiled, and pecked Chris’s lips again before leaning back in his chair.

Words came easier like this, with both of them pink-cheeked and dishevelled, with a hand on each other’s knees. John confessed being sort-of aware of Chris’s feelings in advance, considering sleeping with him and distrusting himself not to treat Chris, someone who had become a profoundly important friend, like a booty call. Chris admitted ignoring his own feelings out of anxiety, and even admitted his mad jealousy when he met Deputy Parrish.

Chris was humbled by John’s concern, and how it had been entirely on his behalf. He felt selfish. It had never occurred to him to think what effect his infatuation would have on John, whether it would be better _for John_ if Chris just kept his feelings to himself. John reassured him, insisted that his response to his feelings was totally valid, and that it was only going to do him good to have Chris by his side from now on, and not just as a friend. Chris wanted to kick himself.

He kissed John instead, because that was an option now, and it was a good one.

John responded enthusiastically, bodily picking Chris up and sitting him on the desk, hip-checking his chair out of the way and placing himself between Chris’s legs.

Being pressed up against John so intimately, and only their second kiss into what could hopefully be an incredibly beneficial relationship (on so many levels, going by the sizable bulge in the front of the Sheriff’s trousers), overwhelmed Chris. He was holding onto John for dear life as his resolve and composure were trashed, willingly this time, and utterly.

John left Chris’s lips to suckle gently at his throat, and Chris knew that John could probably feel his racing pulse and the way his cock was hardening, and a little voice that had remained largely silent since his teenage years piped up. _You could do it. Just put a hand down his pants and grab it, he’ll know what you’re all about. He’s hard. This is practically foreplay anyway_.

Chris leaned into the light suction of John’s mouth on his adam’s apple and stroked a hand down his side.

_You could. Just jack him off, here in his office. He’d let you. He’s been aggressive all night. Maybe he’d even let you blow him._

Chris hadn’t given a blow job since college, but the second the idea popped into his head he knew he wanted to do it to John. He tilted his head back to give John more room to mouth at his neck, and let himself envision it. John slouched in his chair, legs spread and uniform half-off, looking down at Chris and watching him suck, guiding his movements with a hand on the back of his head.

In his state of abandon, Chris couldn’t hold back a groan. John shunted up against him, and Chris grinded in retaliation. John raised his eyes and they stared at each other, as if realizing the extent they’d gone to, within less than an hour of having confessed their feelings. Conceding that yes, they wanted more. They wanted a hell of a lot more. And right now.

They may have gone all the way that night if left uninterrupted.

If, two minutes after John unzipped his pants, a certain Deputy hadn’t opened the door to say goodnight.


End file.
